


Petals

by Airmid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Florist Sam, Fluff and Mush, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 04:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airmid/pseuds/Airmid
Summary: With all his time eaten by work and school Sam has little time for himself, even after a stranger comes into the store and makes a surprising order.OrThe one where Sam is totally oblivious to what's in front of him, as usual.





	Petals

**Author's Note:**

> I don't typically write these type of AU's but this piece was inspired by a challenge I was doing a while back. I took it out to edit because I need to get back into a writing Sam mindset. So here it is and I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 

 

The lime green apron he could do without he decided as he passed the loop faithfully over his head before tying the waist strings. Why his boss was fond of this color he didn’t know but she was and as he was grateful for a part time job that meshed with school he kept his trap shut. Dean liked to say it brought out his sickly shade while trying not to laugh himself to death.

Though sucker punching his brother had at least put a stop to that momentarily.

“Sam? Yo, we got someone that needs advice and my hands are full.” Clarisse was poking her head around the door, dark hair half over her face in a frantic frizzy hairstyle. She was holding a foam block and some rather uncooperative hydrangeas as Sam nodded.

“Sure, right there.”

Managing to get himself in order on his stroll to the front he almost came to a dead halt at the sight of the man. Obscenely well-dressed complete with a tie pin that screamed money and his three piece dark layered suit that Sam was sure was made out of things he couldn’t afford as a napkin let alone clothes. His hand was resting against the counter, dark eyes showing a sense of impatience that his calm face refused to register.

“Sorry about the wait.” Sam found himself actually meaning it. “What can I do for you?”

“It is my secretary’s birthday in a few days and I wish to get her something to be delivered.”

“Well, we can definitely do that. Do you have an idea in mind of what she might like?” he asked feeling his smile falter at that look those eyes gave him. “Or, uh, favorite colors?”

Silence.

“Um, has she said anything about what she might like?”

“She does her job and we rarely speak of personal matters.”

“Okay,” Sam said as he tried to sound professional and not draw out the vowels. “Is there a color she likes to wear to work?”

“Her suits are black but I have noticed she prefers to wear dark shades of blue as accents.”

That voice was monotone but Sam felt something powerful under it, like maybe a banker or a lawyer. He could only imagine some poor woman slaving away in a windowless office somewhere with her few splashes of colors to keep her company on long nights.

“Well, we can work with that,” he said. “We have a lot of selection and depending on your price preference –“

“There is none,” the man interjected and Sam tried not to look startled. “She works long hours, price is not an obstacle. Though, what about those orchids there?”

Sam looked to where he was pointing at a special order that had come in, a rather rarer Orchid though he would have to look at the card that came with the plant to know exactly what species it was. It was an arrangement of ten blooms of hand dyed flowers in a rather clunky vase. Well, at least the vase didn’t match what Sam would have selected.

Dean would be calling him Samantha right about now and he managed to hide a grimace.

“It’s a specialty order. We can definitely do that.”

“Can you have it ready and delivered in seventy-two hours?”

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And that vase,” The man just barely moved his face but it was obvious he agreed with Sam on that one. “Are there other selections?”

“Personally, on that one I would pick the silver,” Sam found himself saying, trying to ignore the inner Dean monologue happening in his head that was basically laughing on a loop. “I think it would give the flowers more, um, pop.”

There was a slight nod. “Then that flower, double the number in a silver vase of your choosing. I need it delivered no later than nine on Thursday morning.”

A quick shuffle through the orders and he found that yes, they could handle that kind of order and he tried not to think too hard about what kind of man would buy his secretary almost two hundred dollars worth of flowers without a thought.

“Thank you,” he said, remembering his manners as the card ran through. “We’ll make sure it gets there in time.”

Only another stiff nod and the man was briskly out the door, his boss sliding up next to him at the counter.

“Well that’s a hell of an order,” she murmured. “Good job, Sam. Though you may have to be the one who delivers it since Bill doesn’t come in till after nine that day and it’s your morning shift.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. It wasn’t that big of a deal and the office wasn’t that far from here. “I can do that.”

 

* * *

 

  
At least Clarisse hadn’t made him wear the apron, he thought as he made his way through the streets on the ten block walk to where these flowers were going. It was a nice morning, brisk but not cold and it felt good to walk. Besides, the last thing he needed was Dean dropping him off in front of building, revving the engine and saying something that would probably make even the most dedicated sinner blush.

Not a good first impression for any business.

The flowers bobbed their heads, bright spots of colors underneath their sheer plastic hood. All the stares he got from holding the rather large arrangement made him feel like maybe he had done something right.

When he saw the names on the outside of the building he mentally kicked himself. He should have recognized Novak immediately off that platinum card that the man handed him. It was only the biggest law firm in the city and one of the few that only had family as partners. The man must have been one of the sons. Michael Novak, his mind supplied as he pressed the up button for the elevator. Everything was marble and ornate, a sense of awe whether one wanted it or not.

The office was more subdued than the lobby, quiet voices on phones and the clacking of keys as he made his way through. Some nodded at him as he looked around, paralegals slipping past him with arms full of folders intent on where ever their destination was. After a couple of questions he was pointed to the rather large desk of a woman off by herself in front of an open office door. He could see the man through the doorway, on the phone, and got a small nod as he made his way to the assistant.

“Aimee Schaffer?” he asked, seeing her eyes widen as she nodded. “Happy Birthday.”

The beautiful smile he got as she took in the arrangement he placed on her desk was really all he needed.

“I should have known he would notice,” she said quietly. “He always takes everything in. And in such a lovely vase too.”

Sam just told her he was happy she liked the flowers but by the time he made his way back to the shop Clarisse was putting down the phone looking quite pleased with herself.

“Sam Winchester, you just landed us the Novaks.”

 

* * *

 

  
He had met the entire family over the past few months, either first on the phone or in person as each came in. The youngest, Gabriel, who seemed more suited to selling used cars was his second favorite. The man always had a loud tie on, something garish, borderline obscene, and he could imagine Michael with silent fury seeing that every morning.

Raphael was simply distant, something aloof about him that showed in how he disliked making eye contact. Something in the way he moved his hands made him seem far more slimy. A movement that spoke of disdain that wasn’t quite open but just beneath the surface of pleasantries.

Then there was Lucifer, and who names their kid that? Seriously, Sam was always a little disturbed when he showed up, wishing that he used a secretary more like Michael. The man was tall and liked to lean in a bit too close like they were old friends. Which made him want to avoid the front counter like it was polished with the plague.

Michael Novak had come in a few of times since his original order and still held that otherworldly air about himself. That 'you can look but don't touch'. Sam wondered if he had that in court or if he was friendly, commiserating with the jury of how hard their job was. Saying how innocent his client was of the crime accused even if he wasn't innocent in life.

He didn’t see him nearly as much as the others and he tried not to focus on why that left something a bit more empty in him when Aimee called instead of the lawyer himself coming in. Not that he missed almost squirming at the way Michael studied him, watched every movement he made with rapt attention. Like he was filing it away in some large mental storage for future use, though Sam didn't know for what purpose.

He decided it was best not to ask those types of questions as he made himself not look forward to seeing him and instead got his brothers.  
  
It amazed him a group of men could have so many occasions for needing flowers. They had wanted everything from a simple sympathy arrangement that was cheap to things on a much grander scale. He had tried to tell Dean how excited he was, that they had landed this account with a bunch of lawyers no less.

Of course his own brother, hands still gritty with grease, had rolled his eyes. Sam knew better though, that look they had that said he was proud of his little brother. Not that he wasn’t proud of Dean too. An excellent mechanic who had taken up quit a following with repairing classic cars. It didn’t matter to him that he lived with his brother who had a profession some looked down on and came home dirty. Dean was Dean, would rather the filth than an office and he was glad his brother got to do something that he loved while he went to school.

Once, he had asked Gabriel why they all used this one store. He didn't add almost to excess and got an indifferent shrug.

"Michael's got it in his head that this is the place for all our flower needs," Gabriel had answered, leaning a hip against the counter. Sam had been fairly certain that his tie that day had been plastered with women in hula skirts on a lime green background. "I don't question him, just follow orders. Makes life easier and less intimidating that way."

He tried not to reflect on that loaded answer but he found himself once again doing so before he saw the clock and realized he was late. A quick wave at Clarisse as he undid his apron and managed to get out the door for his hour of freedom before afternoon classes. And he already had plans, grateful that the place wasn't packed yet. A little neighborhood bistro that was just picking up for the lunch crowd and she had already found a table, waving him over.

“I worry about him sometimes,” Aimee told him when their food was served. “He consumes himself with his work but he’s devoted, loving. He remembers my kid and asks about him. I’ve seen the women circle Mike but he turns them down. Vultures, the lot of them.”

He swallowed at that news, not succeeding in hiding how that little tidbit settled in him.

“Sometimes he asks about you,” she said, her voice low.

Sam pushed a forkful of salad into his mouth, ignoring the giddiness trying to unwrap itself inside him. Look but don’t touch. That was the message he always got. Which was fine. It was. Polite was a-okay.

Nevertheless, he was grateful when she leaned back, shifting the conversation to his classes and he found he could enjoy his salad again.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m looking for a male acquaintance,” Michael Novak told him, stiff and unapproachable at the counter. “Still considering ideas.”

“Well, flowers unfortunately have the connotation of femininity,” Sam told him scratching his head and trying not to yawn. The consequence of being sleep deprived from an all-night session of finishing off a paper for his civics class. “Plants on the other hand, well they can bring cheer without all that extra baggage.”

“And what plant would you suggest for someone who works too much and has little time for themselves?”

Sam bite his tongue to keep from asking if this was a personal gift for the lawyer himself.

“A low maintenance plant that will grow with minimal attention and won’t mind a few days of not being watered. Something that shows life and brings cheer but doesn’t need constant grooming.”

“And that would be?”

“Succulents are always nice. I mean they grow naturally where they aren’t well cared for and are used to a lack of water,” Sam managed not to scratch his head again, feeling embarrassed. His mind was still stuck in legal codes for his classes, not in his job. It was eight in the morning. Who buys flowers this early?

“And do you buy them alone or as a bunch?”

“Either or,” Sam said. “I mean, you can make a small garden out of them if you chose. There’s always the old standby’s like ferns, bamboo or even bonsai trees but,” he paused not sure how it would be taken. “Personally, if it was me, I’d go with succulents as they're hardy and tend to show that about the person.”

“I see,” was the low reply. “Thank you, Mr. Winchester, you have been most helpful.”

With that Michael Novak was out the door and Sam wondered what he had done wrong.

 

* * *

 

  
Dean had managed to prod him awake, all anxious for him to get his breakfast which was smiling up at him in a haunting fashion. His brother was unperturbed of course about whether or not his food had eyes and promised him a night of drinking before he was out the door to work on a custom order.

Sam grinned at the memory as he pushed open the door of the shop, his early shift today.

“Easiest delivery ever,” Clarisse told him, pushing a large bowl full of unique cacti into his hands, one of them blooming. “Happy birthday, Sam.”

He almost asked if it was from her before he saw there was a card attached. She was already bouncing into the next room to get the last round of orders ready for the day as he set the bowl down and opened the envelope.

_Samuel – I hope I am not to forward in asking you to join me for dinner in celebration of your birthday. Regards, Michael Novak._

He swallowed and read it a few more times to make sure he was seeing it right and that there really was a phone number attached.

Deep breathes, he told himself, trying not to shake as he picked up the counter phone, the store’s sign set to closed still as he had a few minutes and he punched in the numbers, hoping.


End file.
